


The Undiscovered Country

by WolffyLuna



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Death, Child Abuse, Gen, implied trahearne/riannoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka five times Riannoc learned about death, plus one time Trahearne did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Undiscovered Country

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes the sylvari encountered humans before they encountered Asura, otherwise the existence of Waine makes very little sense.

1\. Riannoc walked the Grove, exploring a hidden track. He awoke only a week ago, and he and his brothers and sisters hadn’t found even half of what was at the base of the Tree.

His toes sunk in to the ground, still soft and wet from last night’s rain, and he ran his hand along the huge white root which sheltered the track.

He liked exploring. While he didn’t have the taste for secrets or discovery that some of his brothers and sisters had, the looks on their faces when he showed them something new was worth it.

The track curled downwards, and smaller trees shot up, blocking the light. Giant bracket fungi grew along the root in tiers, forming steps. Riannoc clambered up them, careful not to knock them off. They were stronger than the ones he’d seen before, and took his weight, but he sprang off them as soon as he could.

He reached the top of the root, and nearly fell off it. He threw out his arms to balance himself. He steadied, and took a tentative step down the smooth surface. Then another. He inched sideways, left leg leading, right leg following.

He smiled. This was so much fun!

He’d managed to sidle about ten metres further, when his foot a wet patch. His left foot skidded off it, slipping to the side, and his right leg followed after. He hit a bracket with his hip, and landed on the track, shoulder first.

He lifted himself up with his hands, and looked over at the root. It took him a second to work out he’d fallen. He blinked twice. A muddy skid mark sat where he’d slipped off, and one of the brackets’ tip had cracked off. Riannoc turned his head back, and pushed himself up. He rubbed his hip. It hurt, but the pain was already fading.

He walked down the track, and eyed the tree root suspiciously.   

A little way down, something lay in the middle of the track.

Riannoc saw it and jogged over, trying to get a closer look.

It was an animal, large and bristly, with tusks jutting out of it’s jaws.

It must be a boar. Niamh had told him about them. Riannoc slowed down, walking as quietly as he could. She’d told them they were dangerous, though she laughed as she told him about the one who chased her up a tree.

The boar lay very, very still, but it stared at him.  

Riannoc crept to the side.

It’s eyes didn’t follow him, and kept staring at where he was.  

Riannoc cocked his head, and edged closer. Maybe it was asleep? It was staying very still, and he’d seen Malomedies be this still when he was asleep. He hadn’t seen Malomedies sleep with his eyes open, but maybe this was how boars slept?

He reached out to touch it. Half of him wanted to feel the texture of its fur, the other half didn’t want to wake it up. It looked so peaceful.

He stroked it, his hand darting across it and back again. (It was even more coarse and bristly than it looked.)

The boar didn’t stir.

Riannoc stroked it again. It felt stiff, and cold. “If only I had something to warm you, friend.” He looked down the track.

There was a patch of sunlight a little ways down, where one of the trees had fallen, and none yet had grown tall enough to replace it.

He walked around the other side of the boar, and started to drag the boar down the hill. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere.” It was heavy, and the hill was not quite steep enough that it would roll down itself. It surprised Riannoc that it hadn’t woken up, with all the shoving and dragging and grunting.

He collapsed when he finally got the boar into the patch of sunlight. He patted its side, and stared up at the patch of blue sky. “There you go. Much nicer, isn’t it?”

***

2\. Riannoc walked with Trahearne along the beach, Caladbolg in hand. The tide washed… things onto the beach, and he followed Trahearne as his brother torched them, ready to strike if they stood up. Most of them did, lunging forward and screaming about Orr.

“What are these?” He’d seen them before, half caught glimpses in his Dream, but he didn’t understand them. Didn’t have a name for them.

“They’re Risen. They’re not alive –dead– things, brought back to some sort of life by the Dragon.” Trahearne drew circles in the air with his free hand. He did that when he had trouble explaining something, Riannoc noticed. He couldn’t tell if Trahearne was having trouble explaining because he had to dumb it down, or because he didn’t quite understand himself.

“From Orr?”

Trahearne nodded, staring out at the sea. “I believe so. I’d have to go there to be absolutely sure.”

Riannoc turned to look in the same direction. The sunlight sparkled off the deep blue ocean. He peered out as far as he could, just in case he could catch a glimpse of Orr.  The sea just seemed to stop, to drop off the world before it reached there. “It would be a long journey.”

“I’ll have to go there eventually. Probably sooner rather than later.”

Riannoc nodded. It was Trahearne’s destiny. You couldn’t cleanse a place without being there, unless there was some sort of magic he didn’t know about that could do it from a distance.

He felt a quick pang of concern, almost certainly misplaced, but still there. “It couldn’t happen to you, could it?”

“What couldn’t happen?”

Riannoc nodded his head in the direction of one of the risen. “Become one of those things.”

Trahearne shook his head. “They’re made of flesh, we’re not. I don’t think we can even stop being alive in the first place.”

***

3\. Riannoc hopped over a fence, wandering where his feet lead him. He’d find Mazdak eventually, he just had to keep walking. The Dream would not lead him wrong.

Fields of wheat and cattle and pigs and corn surrounded him, climbing up and over hills and valleys. It was colder and drier here than the Grove, but pleasant enough.

Someone cried out.

Riannoc whipped around, hopped over a fence, and jogged up the hill towards the source.

It was half scream, half whimper. Whoever made that sound couldn’t have been far. He rested his right hand on Caladbolg’s pommel, ready to draw it if need be.

(Was it Mazdak? Was the lich terrorising the area? No. Couldn’t be Mazdak. He would have felt it if it was Mazdak.)

Someone whimpered again.

“Shut it, you stupid boy,” said someone else.

A house sat at the crest of the hill, white brick with a thatched roof.  The sound came from around the back.

“Who’s there?!” Riannoc shouted. He run past the front of the house, past the side wall.

It went very quiet.

Riannoc rounded the corner.

A small human (child? was that the word?) sat curled up in a ball against the wall, arm covering his face. A woman stood over him, long stick in hand. She whirled around, and glared at Riannoc. “Get out.”

Riannoc looked between her and the small human. He still cowered. Riannoc glared back. “What are you doing?” The little one was small and defenseless. Who hurt someone like that? Anger roiled in his chest, bubbling and expanding. He wouldn’t be surprised if he siblings could feel it all the way in the Grove.

The woman stared at him harder, looked at him like he’d gone mad,  and pointed her stick at Riannoc. “It’s none of you business. Get off my property.” She enunciated her words clearly, putting a distinct pause between each.

“You’re hurting him.”

“He was disobedient. It’s my right.”

Riannoc could feel the anger climbing up his throat. “What sort of monster feels they have the right to hurt someone?”

“I’m not a monster. It’s my right.”

Riannoc glanced at the stick. “Put it down. Leave him alone.”

“It’s. my. right.” The woman snarled and leaped at him, stick aimed at his head.

Riannoc drew Caladbolg, and before the woman crossed even half the distance, cut the stick in half.

She tried to pull back, but she was flying through the air, and couldn’t stop herself.

Caladbolg sliced through her chest as she landed.

The small human shrieked and ran away, past Riannoc.

Something moved within the house.

Riannoc pulled Caladbolg from her chest, and held it in a defensive position.  

A man crashed through the doorway, and grabbed a hayfork from next to the door frame. He turned and saw Riannoc, and then the woman at Riannoc’s feet. He blinked twice, and stayed still for a second, his eyes flicking between the two. His mind caught up with the image in front of him, and he ran towards Riannoc, hayfork out.

Riannoc deflected it, overbalancing the man and knocking him to the ground. Riannoc held Caladbolg at his throat. “Did you hurt the small one?”

The man’s eyes darted from side to side. “What? No!”

Riannoc pressed the tip against his windpipe. “You lie.”

“No, never!”

“I can see it in your eyes.” He shoved Caladbolg down. It parted the flesh like an oar parted water. He held it there for a second, before withdrawing it.

Blood ran off Caladbolg, in sheets and drips. It took only a moment for the blade to become clean again. Riannoc put it back into its scabbard.

Something yelped beside him.  

Riannoc spun on his heels. .

The small human saw his face, and ran.

Riannoc jogged after him. “Wait! You’re safe now!”

The small human looked over his shoulder at Riannoc, and ran into a haystack. He fell over in a heap. He scrambled to his feet, spun around, and grabbed a nearby hoe. The human’s face screwed up, and he shrieked “Get away from me!”

Riannoc skidded to a halt, and held his hands up. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The human looked just like a boar he and Niamh had corned once. (It charged right onto their spears.) “You killed my parents!”

Riannoc went down on one knee, so he was at eye level with the human. “They hurt you. I protected you.”

“They’re dead now! You sliced my ma right open, you monster!”

Riannoc frowned. “I’m not a monster. I came here to fight monsters.”

The human gripped the hoe tighter, and Riannoc softened his face.

“It’s okay. I swear I am not going to hurt you.” He searched for the phrase he’d seen humans use. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

The boy glared at him. He was small, but strong and hale, Riannoc noticed, even with the bruises blooming on his face. He’d be a strong ally against Mazdak, with a little training.   “What do you want?”

“I have a–” Riannoc groped for the best word “– a promise to fulfill. To help people. And, if you’re willing, I’d like your help.”

“You killed my parents.”

“And if I have to, I’d kill anyone else.”

***

4.

Riannoc and Waine sat in a shack, just outside Auld Red Wharf, preparing. Rain pattered against the roof.

Mazdak was close, Riannoc could feel it. He could feel the pull, and the gurgling, swirling malevolence coming from the swamp.

Riannoc cleaned Caladbolg. He found it calming. Stroking the cloth along the white wood of the blade quitened his mind. It worked, but his mind still bubbled over with questions. Were they ready to take on Mazdak? He was strong, and good hearted, and Waine was too, in his own way. But was it enough? He shook his head free of the thought. Of course they were ready. This was their destiny.

This would be the first completed Wyld Hunt. He would return to the Grove, the lich’s head in his hand and Waine in tow. His siblings would greet them, and they would celebrate. There would be feasting, and singing, and dancing. And with one Wyld Hunt complete, he could convince the others that each hunt was possible. Admittedly, his hunt was small, compared to Caithe or Trahearne’s, but if a small one could be done, maybe the greater ones could be done as well.

Waine said something, waking Riannoc from his thoughts.  Riannoc turned to him. “What did you say?”

Waine looked up from his patching work, tapping his heel against the barrel he sat on. “Are you sure we’re going to win? ”

Riannoc frowned, and looked to the left, past Waine’s shoulder. They would win.  It wasn’t guaranteed, but if he was wrong, it wouldn’t matter. They were doing what had to be done, and that was all that was important. And as the human saying went, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. There was no reason that couldn’t attempt it a few times. “We may not succeed, but we will have done what we had to..”

Waine looked back to his sewing.  “You don’t understand it, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“How dangerous this is. Mazdak is powerful.”

“All the more reason we should do it. We need  to stop him so he never harms anyone again.” Riannoc walked over, and kneeled on the dirt floor in front of Waine.

Waine stared pointedly at his stitching.  

“This is my Wyld Hunt, and I am destined to it. You are my squire. If we do not do it, who else?”

“You definitely don’t get it.” Waine grumbled.

“Waine.”

Waine looked up

“I do understand. I know Mazdak is powerful.”

Waine threw the half patched bag to the floor. “That’s not it! We might die!” He crossed his arms and looked away.

“Waine.”

Waine threw up his hands in frustration. “And no one would ever know, because we’d die in a swamp, and I don’t have any family left, and I’d bet your family would never think to look there.” He pointed an accusing finger.

“Waine. We won’t die. No sylvari has ever died.”

“I’m not sylvari.”

Riannoc took a deep breath. “While Mazdak is mighty, so are we. It is our destiny. We won’t die. We will fulfill the hunt, even if we have to try and try again.”

Waine didn’t look convinced. “That doesn’t make me sylvari.”

“You remember the promise I made you, when we first met? I will do whatever I can to protect you. Mazdak can not hurt you, not while I still stand. And I will not fall.”

***

5\. Caladbolg slipped from his grasp. His fingers couldn’t hold it, and Waine barely had to pull to take it. “Waine! No! I need Caladbolg to kill Mazdak! Come back! I cannot give up! Mazdak is coming!” He could feel Waine’s running footsteps reverberate through the ground. Riannoc turned over, and tried to lift himself up. He got his chest up, but he couldn’t lift his legs. He crawled forward, dragging himself along. “Waine!”

No answer.

His arms gave out, and he collapsed. His jaw hurt from holding it open to fight for breath. His ribs burned so much, they’d gone right round and become numb. From the way it ached when he tried to move it, he knew something had gone wrong with his right knee.

The ground shook, the heavy thump-thump-thump of someone stomping over in armour.

He rolled back over, and looked around.

Risen surrounded him. One stood in front of him, carrying a hammer twice his height and at least his weight. It had no jaw, and it tried to move it’s dangling tongue around the sound of Orr.

Riannoc drew his backup blade. It didn’t have the reach or power of Caladbolg, but it was better than than facing a horde of undead unarmed. . He held it out in front of him, in a shaking hand.

The Risen in front of him didn’t react. It swung its hammer.

Riannoc couldn’t dodge, and his little blade couldn’t parry a hammer. He held up his lower arm, on instinct, shielding his face.

It got crushed along with his ribcage. His chest stopped being numb, and it felt like a building had fallen on him, even as the corpse lifted its hammer. His wrist and the bottom half of his lower arm flopped over, held to the rest of his arm by a bit of bark and sliver of flesh, like a twig snapped in half.

It’s going to hurt like this forever. That was the first, selfish, thought that came into his head. This would never stop. He’d be battered and crushed and broken and hurting for the rest of his life.

His lungs couldn’t get enough air. They’d fill partway up, but it wasn’t enough. His heart beat fast and hard, like it was trying to escape his chest.

The other Risen closed in.

He was going to die. This must be what dying feels like. He was on the ground, surrounded by Risen, at any moment Mazdak could arrive, and every part of him was ruined. He was going to die.

At least his chest would stop hurting.

He’d miss his brothers and sisters though. He’d miss the Grove, the days where he and Niamh would train until the rains came, and then Aife and Kahedins would have baked something delicious for them when they ran inside, sodden. He’d miss the days where he would sit on the shore, waiting for Trahearne’s little ship to come over the horizon.

His siblings would miss him to, he guessed. Would they ever know? He was so far away from them, would they even feel a shadow of it? Would he just never show up at Grove again, and they’d just wait, wondering why he hadn’t returned?

He’d miss Waine too, even after what he’d done. He’d wanted watch him grow, mature. He’d never seen it happen before, and he wanted to know what it was like, to watch a scared little boy become a strong, hearty man.

He should have waited. Waine wasn’t ready.

Now he thought about it, neither was he.

He didn’t know enough. About life, death, the Risen, humans, anything. He didn’t know enough, and know he was going to die, without ever facing Mazdak face to face.

He hoped his siblings wouldn’t miss him to much.

He forced what little air was in his lungs out. “Forgive him, Mother, We were both, too young…”

***

6\. Trahearne fell off his chair. He clattered to the ground, the book on the history of Orr following behind him.

The Dream ripped away from him, and then came back in a rush, like someone had cut the cord going from him to the Tree, and then hastily tied it back on. It felt like they’d tied it back on wrong.

He stood up, and put the book on the reading desk. His left knee shook, and he gripped the edge of the desk to keep his balance.

The librarian came bustling over. “Are you alright, sir?”

Trahearne nodded, and righted the chair. “I am fine, but I must return home. Something has gone wrong.”

The librarian cocked her head. “What’s happ–”

He ignored her and strode out. He didn’t have time to work out how to explain it. He didn’t even know what it was.

His chest burned in sympathetic pain.

He half ran through the Dwayna Low Road, hood up. He didn’t have time for anything. He needed to get back to the Grove. Something was wrong, and he needed to be back under the shade of the Pale Tree.

He covered the ground between Queensdale and Kessex Hills faster than he thought possible. His legs and chest burned, the Dream still felt wrong, but he had to get home. His sibling were there. They could work it out together.

He went the fastest direct route back towards the Grove, through the swamp the humans knew as Lychcroft Mere. It was Risen filled, but it was the fastest land route he knew. He needed speed more than he needed safety.

That was when he felt it. The Dream tugged him deeper into the swamp. At first he thought it was just an urging to go faster towards the Grove, the echo of one of his brothers or sisters wanting him to be back. But it couldn’t be that. It felt different, it tugged deeper in his chest.

He glanced around, checking for Risen. Nothing in the swamp moved, except for bullrushes swinging lazily in the breeze. The tug pulled harder, and he wanted to sprint straight into the depths of it, but he steadied himself. He kept a spell ready in his mind, and walked on carefully.

Something lay on the shore, drawing Trahearne’s attention. It looked like some crude effigy of a sylvari, by someone who’d never seen one. It lay still, crushed and splintered and rotten and wrong.

Trahearne took a second look, and caught a glance of its leafy hair, and he realised. It wasn’t an effigy. It was Riannoc. Crushed and splintered and rotten and wrong and far, far too still.

He checked for Risen again (none, like they’d all thundered up from the below the surface and then retreated, like a clear sky after a heavy storm) and walked over to Riannoc.

He looked worse close up, torn apart and sap covered. Trahearne searched for Caladbolg. The blade was gone.

He kneeled down, next to Riannoc, his throat closing up. This was wrong. He’d never seen Riannoc dressed without Caladbolg at his side, not since he’d received his hunt. Even when he was naked, he’d never let the blade out of sight. Either Riannoc had hidden it, or it had been destroyed… or taken.

Trahearne shook his head to free himself of the thought, and laid his hand on Riannoc’s chest. It stayed stubbornly still and broken. He punched Riannoc’s chest, vainly try to get him to breath. His hand slipped into a cavity, and came out sticky and yellow. Riannoc’s chest still didn’t move.

He’d died.

Trahearne had seen death, he’d seen Risen, and he’d raised a few boar corpses, but he’d never seen sylvari death.None of them had ever been broken and wrong and far too still. None of them had fallen from the Dream.

He stood up, and turned away. He needed to return to the Grove, even more than before.. His siblings wouldn’t know what had happened. Someone had to bring news.

His eyes burned. Riannoc was dead. Gone.

He swallowed it down. Even if he couldn’t see any, there was Risen in this swamp. It wouldn’t be safe to break down. And if he broke down now, he might not get back up

He paused. There was Risen in the swamp. Could sylvari become Risen?

He didn’t know. None of them had ever died before.

He couldn’t think of any reason they couldn’t become undead.

He couldn’t let that happen to Riannoc.

He rummaged through his pack, and found a flint and steel. He tried to light Riannoc’s corpse. It took a few attempts; Riannoc had been soaking in mud for who knows how long, and sylvari were not particularly flammable. The leaves of his clothing caught on fire, and Trahearne fanned it, keeping an eye on whether the Risen had come out of their hiding.

Finally, the fire became a blaze, and Riannoc’s features became even more distorted and wrong as the burned and charred. A plume of dark smoke rose up, reaching out of the canopy of the trees..

Trahearne stood up again, and walked towards the Grove.

His siblings needed to know.  


End file.
